We let our dogs roam the backyards guarding against
squirrels. They are brave in the face of cats, but wind
is a brute and leaves are psychotic killers. We build
snowwomen. Sad ones. We rank number one in
pessimism and complain about it. It is impossible to find
a psychiatrist. There are no open spaces. No parking
at the University. No space on Parade Day. No parking
during the art walk, on First Friday. There’s
a painting called “Grandmother,” with a wrinkled smile propping
up green eyes. Next to it, an unnamed display of a ferret
pelt on top scattered light bulbs. We have traffic half –
circles, but all our other portions are large. We don’t want
your hydrofrack. Sometimes we just have to
put on a moustache. Sometimes it’s a snow day and we
use up all the saved stickers on one poster. It can be lonely
during the winter so you better have a big
family. We have pools in the summer when the snow finally
shrivels in black heaps and disappears. Only 50 cents. And our trees
are green; they know good customer service now. We wait for our
mail and watch a tree dance for us. Make mental notes for
improvements. Stand in line behind 30 people for regular
soft serve. We watch it all die too. Call that death beautiful
before we curse the cycle because we’re cold, not because we’re
altruistic. We say goodbye to baby toys. Dora has found a nuevo amiga y
everyone moves on. We learn about the Iroquois. There will be
a long house or a rattle or something else made from
paper mache and glitter, just as the Iroquois did it, and at the end
of the year parents will date their children to a dance. We will
wait for them to date for real and pretend the texting
means zero. Our kids cross the train tracks to get to the Red &
White for junk food. We find a sole shoe abandoned outside
Price Chopper. This is where the goldfish cracker was last
month. Change is inevitable. The kids walk to the Red & White
and when they come back they sit on the porch and talk
about going away to college. They want to stay here, except
the ones who want to leave more than breathe. Even they
will be back.
Facts About Neuroplasticity 